Shattered Histories, Avenged Futures
by theXbeat08
Summary: Not actually a Starfox fic. Follows the story of a prisoner doing time for a crime he didn't commit, and the rocky path he follows to find his freedom.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everybody!! Now I know, I know...it seems like I died, right? Well, during the summer doing things like this actually are impossible. Which seems odd, but trust me, it's true. Still, here I am, starting off a brand new story! WOO!**

**Now, this story is in no way related to FAF, my other story. It doesn't even have Fox in it, since I got bored of writing the guy. Enough people do it. :) This chapter in particular may be confusing, what with the changing perspectives and all. Please try and bear with me here. Read and review!**

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_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Deneya Selin had never heard a noise as deafening as the blaring bank alarms. Over and over they blasted a frantic beat into her defenseless eardrums. It was almost as though the alarms were bleating out a warning in an unknown language.

_BEEP. BEEP._

The jaguar swiveled her head from side to side. She's never seen as much chaos as the scene unfolding before her. Pointed shoes produced repetitive, frantic echoes against the polished linoleum floors. All around her, smartly-dressed businesspeople in tailored skirt-suits and toting fancy leather suitcases dropped their thousand-dollar belongings and lunged for the door...to no avail. The huge, glass double doors were somehow magnetically sealed shut, refusing to budge no matter how hard the civilians pounded on the transparent surface.

Watching the pandemonium develop around her, Deneya simply froze in place, shocked. She felt as though she lost control of her legs, since she found that she couldn't move. Her hazel eyes were wide with shock. The coffee-colored jaguar's handbag fell from her grip, but she didn't even bother glancing down. She was paralyzed with fear.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

This predicament was unimaginable to Deneya, even in her wildest nightmares. This was the last thing she had expected when she arrived at the bank. A successful lawyer living in a luxury high-rise at the center of the city, she had just been planning to make a short cash run.

She remembered waking up, just this morning. Putting on her work clothes. Making her usual cup of coffee, while checking to see her bag had everything she needed in it. Realizing she had to leave early to stop at the bank. Kissing her boyfriend goodbye, promising she'd be back on time for their date that night. She swallowed hard. That had all been not even an hour ago.

Her breathing grew heavier. The image of her boyfriend's face suddenly appeared in her mind, larger than life. She gasped. His image began to fade. A small, dark corner of her mind warned her that this would be the last time she'd see him.

_BEEP. BEEP._

The alarms had been set off by the crack of a gunshot. The sudden noise was so unexpected, Deneya had almost brushed it off as a hallucination. However, she was thrown back into reality when another shot rang out mere seconds later, connecting solidly with the chest of the well-dressed security guard standing beside the door. One moment, he was standing tall, more a statue than a man. In the blink of an eye, he was suddenly convulsing on the floor. His regal, picturesque uniform was now tinted in his own shade of red.

The jaguar's gaze had shifted from the gruesome sight, but she found no comfort glancing at the guard who had been stationed on the opposite side of those massive doors. Between the now-lifeless vulpine's unseeing eyes, a trail of blood dripped down his nose.

The shots cut through the air, their death sound mingling with the blaring alarms. More security guards, some disguised as regular civilians, sprung from their posts and attempted to locate the source of the barrage of gunfire, but to no avail. As more and more innocent bodies dropped lifelessly to the linoleum, the odds began to make themselves evident as bullets blazed forward from their unknown location.

Now, it was mere target practice for the shooter.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Ivan Baker despised being a tortoise Unable to dodge the fury of the bullets, he simply gathered himself inside his heavy shell. From within his natural shelter, he was rattled by the shots ricocheting off his back. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the storm of gunfire to cease. He could hear the desperate steps of those around him, and the sudden halt when the bullet met its target. He shuddered, refusing to sneak even the slightest glance of the scene falling apart around him.

The assault of bullets seemed to continue on for days. Ivan squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable shot to seal his fate for good. But, after what could be described as a decade, the gun suddenly silenced. Taking a deep breath, the tortoise shakily extended from his shell. Glancing tentatively around him, he felt his heart flutter weakly at the sight of crimson-soaked bodies. Pools of liquid spread across the polished floors. Still, he couldn't help but give a single sigh of relief.

For the moment, the gunfire had ceased.

_BEEP. BEEP._

From high above the frightened townspeople, an unseen mouth curled into a devilish grin. The shooter skillfully took his rifle apart, spreading the pieces within the pipes surrounding him. His gloves prevented any sort of metallic noise that could have given away his location. After he finished up with his weapon, he silently scaled the wall until he was safely back on ground. The shadows still hid his stature from the startled gazes of the innocents.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

"Alright," he rasped. His throaty tone was low, so quiet that it easily was smothered by the panicked shrieks and moans echoing through the building. "You know what to do?" His listener did not respond, and the shooter grew irritated. "Answer," he commanded. Silence.

_BEEP. BEEP._

Ivan's head twisted from side to side, taking in the bloody carnage of the victims around him. His eyes grew wider and wider as image after grotesque image flooded his vision. A silent tear slid down from his left eye, catching on the bulky frame of his glasses. The stench of blood flooded the tortoise's nostrils, causing him to gag.

"Hey, is it, like, over?" A twenty-ish blonde skunk, with flowing white hair and a thousand-dollar makeup case, asked loudly. She seemed oblivious to the lifeless corpses around her. The skunk's nasally voice was barely heard over the blaring alarms. "Uhm, can you, maybe, like, shut those off? Thaaanks," she moaned to nobody in particular, eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

Ivan glared at the girl, coughing violently. "Yo," he shouted hoarsely at the skunk. "You blind or something? Try pulling your head out of the center of the universe and actually looking around." He clenched his teeth angrily. "I think there are more important things to deal with besides shutting the alarms off."

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

The skunk simply rolled her eyes at Ivan, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. This seemed to irk the tortoise even more.

"I figured you were deaf, since you seemed oblivious to the gunshots. But I guess not, if those alarms bother you so much." He smirked. "Guess you're just dumb, then."

The girl let out a small gasp in disbelief, putting a hand over her mouth. "Um, like, excuse me. Do I even _know _you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Didn't think so," she continued after a moment. "So shut up."

_BEEP. BEEP. _

Ignoring the loud conversation nearby, Denaya just stared ahead in shock. She still could hear those gunshots ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to quiet the sound. It was then that she picked up on a voice – low, hoarse. It sounded like it was coming from a shadowed corner, about ten feet from her. She still couldn't move an inch from where she stood, but her head slowly swiveled in the direction of the voice.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

The shooter gritted his teeth. "Still no speaking, huh?" With that, he struck out with a hard hand, hearing the impact against the other's face. "Try it now," he berated.

At first, his only response was heavy breathing. "I can't do this," came the quiet response. This new voice was slow, tentative, as though the speaker was afraid to even utter a breath. However, to experienced ears, the voices of the shooter and his accomplice were similar.

_BEEP. BEEP._

"I don't care whether or not you _can,_" said the shooter, who's vocals were notably stronger and more forceful than the other's. He took an intimidating step forward. "But you _will_. Right now. And if you still refuse..." The sound of a blade grazing against its hilt was heard, and a small glint of light bounced off the edge. "Well," he chuckled. "You know exactly what comes of that, do you not?"

Silence, again. Then the tense quiet was broken not by a voice, but by the rustling of clothing. The shooter cleared his throat. "Wait, wait a sec." He silently pivoted around his accomplice. Putting one hand over their mouth, the shooter slowly sliced across the other's stomach. "Need a stain," he whispered into the other's ear as he cut. His hand tightened over his confederate's mouth, silencing their grunts and moans of pain.

Once he decided he'd done a decent enough cutting job, the shooter stepped back. "Proceed," he commanded gruffly. His accomplice was breathing roughly, but the previous rustling continued. Eventually, the shooter was given a new set of clothes. The shooter grinned, smelling the fresh blood that was soaking into his new attire. A bit more rustling, and his accomplice now was supplied with different clothes. "I knew you'd comply."

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

It was then that a loud thump sounded from the other side of the bank's glass doors. Four police cars had pulled up to the outside of the bank, lights flashing. A squad of ten policemen, gold badges glinting in the sunlight, were repeatedly beating on the heavy doors with their chestnut-colored night sticks.

The shooter glanced over at the cause of this new commotion, rolling his hidden eyes at the policemen's futile attempt to break down the door. "Figures," he muttered. "These idiots just don't know when to quit, do they?" His cruel grin widened as he tapped one of the several buttons adorning his flight gloves.

_BEEP. BEEP._

Without warning, a massive explosion blew out the door. The horde crowding the inside of the doorway were blown backward with insane force, some dying just from the impact of the detonation. Others were thrown into walls, necks and limbs snapping at grotesque angles. Pools of blood soon began to coat the gleaming, glossy floor of the bank. The blood of the Ivan Baker, now flowing from a lifeless corpse, mingled with the crimson liquid of other deceased victims as the trail of scarlet spread across the floor.

On the opposite side of the door, the scene was far from better, if not just as bad. Bodies of the police force were scattered, some splayed across the road in the path of approaching vehicles. The lifeless eyes of the policemen were wide. For far too many of those uniformed personnel, the final expression they'd ever construct would be one of plain stupor.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

A few moments after the murderous explosion, notified medics arrived in their white vehicles, sirens wailing. They managed to gather some information about what had occurred from the growing crowd of civilians surrounding the bank. Approaching the scene, the paramedics received little instruction from the few remaining policemen, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of shock.

Luckily, the paramedics figured out what their job was just from surveying the scene. A few tended to the diffused area of officers, while more ran inside the bank to find any survivors. The police officers still in decent enough condition to function edged cautiously towards the door. Bravely, they managed to carefully examine the area where the bomb had gone off.

Curiously, they found that the bomb had been planted _inside_ the building.

_BEEP. BEEP. _

The shooter smiled cruelly from the shadows. He took great pleasure in watching the medics pile into the bank. "Morons, with their worthless hopes," he rasped quietly as he observed the paramedics, shaking his head. Surveying his bloody handiwork, his unseen eyes met with those of a startled jaguar.

He raised an eyebrow. His gaze never wavering from the jaguar's, he stepped closer to his confederate. "It's showtime," he whispered in the other's ear. Pulling out a pistol, he reached out and shoved his accomplice into the public's view.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Denaya had shot backward from the blast, but because she wasn't that close to the source she was still conscious. Her arm was bent at a dangerous angle, and blood heavily rushed from where it split open. Still, her eyes remained fixed on the darkened corner. Shaking, she managed to struggle to a standing position. Breathing heavily, she noticed a wolf stumble out from the blackness, squinting from the light.

The lupine was dressed in black from head to toe: a black long-sleeve shirt over dark pants, ebony sneakers and gloves. A dark hat covered the top of his head, but Denaya could still make out the golden tint of his fur. He was turned away from her, his head whipping back and forth. He looked panicked all right, but not like everyone else.

A medic checking the pulse of a fallen mink nearby glanced up, then did a double take as he caught sight of the gold-furred wolf. "Hey! Hey, you!" The medic's voice traveled to the ears of the policemen outside, who immediately rushed in. The wolf backed up as the opposition grew closer, and frantically his gaze shifted again. For the slightest second, his eyes met Denaya's.

_BEEP. BEEP._

Denaya had never seen the face of a criminal before. She imagined an expression of harsh indifference, of entertained happiness, or even of simple insanity. Seeing the face of this wolf, she somehow knew the face she was looking at was not one of a criminal. His golden eyes told a different story, one far crueler than even the story of senseless death playing out before them. Something in his eyes told her that he was not the cause of this catastrophe. And, just in that one moment, Denaya felt overcome with an urge to help him. With her common sense gone, she tried to reach into his mind, straight through his eyes.

Those eyes were the last thing Denaya Selin ever saw, before the finalizing echo of a pistol rang through the air.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

_BEEP. BEEP._

As the snoopy jaguar lifelessly collapsed to the floor, that lone bullet signaled the end of the shooter's offense. The barrel of his pistol was hot from use.

The authorities rushed into the bank, immediately surrounding the black-clothed wolf, forcing his arms down and twisting his wrists behind his back. Slapping on a pair of handcuffs, the policemen gruffly dragged their prisoner out the door. There was not one glance back.

Kail Xavier raised an eyebrow, looking on from the shadows. He was really going to miss that rifle, but no matter. The deed was done, and now he had managed to erase any traces the police may have had on him. Not a bad day at all.

Emerging into the light, he casually followed the uniformed policemen outside. Blending into the small crowd of injured survivors, he eventually broke free of the horde and continued walking away from the bank. Once he safely crossed the street, he glanced behind him. He managed a quick look at the captive's face.

The gold wolf clad in all black was glaring back at him. Even with the look of pure hatred etched into the lupine's face, his features were still remarkably similar to Kail's. Their fur was the same vibrant shade as well. The opposite wolf's irises flashed angrily, and his snout curled into a snarl. But Kail only smirked back, as the authorities noticed their captive's new expression tightened their grip on their prisoner. The black-clothed wolf winced, and his expression shifted to one of pain. But his eyes remained fixed on Kail, who simply sauntered away. As the shooter safely left the scene of his crime, he glanced down at himself.

The gray shirt he wore was just slightly tight on him, though it still fit. The section of the shirt that was supposed to cover his stomach was torn off, leaving a huge hole. Ominous red stains surrounded the tear, and a line of dried blood dripped down to the end of the shirt. Similar crimson stains dotted his jeans and sneakers. Kail shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Jeez," he muttered gruffly. "He really needs to take better care of his clothes," He continued on, distancing himself from the fated bank and ignoring the other wolf's golden stare burning into him. He laughed quietly to himself as the sound of those ominous bank alarms followed him.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

_BEEP. BEEP._

_  
BEEP._

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**Well, there you have it. I dunno, but I wasn't a huge fan of this chapter, even though I edited like a crazy person. There are a lot of questions formed from this, I know, but the answers will come soon enough. Hopefully I won't go on another hiatus. :) Reviews are awesome, people! So, yeah, thanks for reading. More soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. It has been FOREVER. But I got some spare time today to sit down and plan all this out, and hopefully with school dying out a little for spring break I'll be able to catch up with this. Never written a chapter this long, so we'll see how it goes. Hope you like it!**

_Light._

_I can see it. Well, duh, of course I can. I've been in this stupid tunnel far too many times. Always heading towards some light. How cliché is that? Running towards the big white circle, which magically seems to be the same distance away no matter how hard you run. No matter how deep your breath is, and no matter how loudly your limbs are screaming out in protest._

_All for some light. What can that light do for me? Nothing, it's an inanimate object. And what's over there anyway? Life is probably the same once it's illuminated. What's around you is what's around you, no matter what light condition you're in. _

_Maybe I should go back. Once I can see, finally, I'll probably regret it._

The truck jumped as one of the wheels ran over a large rock. The sudden jolt brought the gold-furred wolf back to reality. Unfortunate, he decided, as his weary eyes snapped open. It took an extra minute or so to realize where he was, and once his surroundings grew more familiar he wanted desperately to just lapse back into unconsciousness.

For he was sitting on a cold metal bench, which was nothing more than a slab of steel jutting out of the truck's wall. There was no internal light, and the restricted amount of sunlight allowed through the minuscule back window hardly helped at all. The sun's rays shone through spaces between the bars in the window.

Bars in windows. He'd get used to it. That was pretty unfortunate, too.

"Enjoy your nap, Goldilocks?" A gruff bear in a police uniform, seated directly across the vehicle, addressed him sarcastically. "You better 'ave, since I doubt you'll be able t'sleep for awhile. After yer admission, that is." A brittle smile crossed the large bear's face, hidden behind a bushy brown moustache.

The wolf grimaced as a response, shifting his gaze to the ground. He blinked slowly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Which were covered in black.

Why was he wearing black again?

The wolf shook his head, as the day's events filtered back into his head. The shooting, the explosions. The fresh cut in his stomach. And his new attire.

His surroundings were sliding around, and his focus was all over the place. He could barely keep the image of the police van's insides clear in his vision. The smell of body odor, mixed with the slightest tint of blood, rushed his nostrils. Body odor was expected, but blood?

_Isn't it too early for police brutality? I definitely thought...oh, wait. It's my blood. Of course._

The wolf sighed, leaning his head back against the cool van wall and looking up at the dim ceiling. He could make out the random grunts of conversation between his two companions in the van.

"Heard from Horne that she got a fax from the Annex dis morning'," the bear drawled, stroking his moustache absently. They wanted us t'take on of them mental criminals a'ders, since they got no room. Lousy piece'a..."

"The Annex? Without room?" The raccoon beside him snorted, as his gold badge adorning his uniform glinted in the sparse sunlight. "Always acting all high and mighty, and then come around asking _us_ to take in one of theirs? I dunno if I should be honored or amused."

"Well, they'd also said dis guy's no trouble. Killed some mommas at a school board's meetin', that's all. And this psycho's 'parently takin' up too much room. Must need da space for the next Unibomber."

The raccoon rolled his eyes. "Like we can't handle it. It's like a grown man giving baby food to his twin." He shook his head. "They think we're amateurs. Idiots. Just 'cuz they have the nice facilities, the shitloads of dough..."

"Hey, now," the bear interrupted, gesturing towards the wolf. "Now w'got this fella o'er 'ere. Dis guy's dominatin' them criminal charts out der. An' he's _ours_, Pattin."

"Such a catch, huh?" The racoon's gaze turned to their captive as well, a new expression of curiosity on his face.

_I'm not a fish._ The words were on the tip on the wolf's tongue, just aching to come out. But he couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe, as a matter of fact. His head was spinning faster and faster.

"G'on, boy," the bear scolded the wolf, as though he didn't see the glazed look in the other's eyes. "Y'got yer mouth open with nothin' on your mind?" No answer.

"Careful, Donahue," Pattin warned. "If he's as dangerous as you seem to imply, it's probably better not to rile him up."

But Donahue ignored the raccoon, talking slower. "C'mon. You slow thinkin', boy?"

Rein took a breath, trying to formulate words, but it was an impossible task. Finally, Pat glanced down and noticed the dark stain growing even under the black material of the wolf's shirt.

"He's losing too much blood," he muttered, rummaging around for a strip of white bandage tape.

Meanwhile, Rein's subconscious began to drift.

_It's dark. There's a small fire, in the corner. I think it's a corner. I'd be able to figure it out, if I knew where the hell I was. _

_The flames, normally so warm and bright, licked the walls and grew in size. Reaching, for something. For me? They keep growing, moving, every second. Jumping, without any control or will. It just burns._

It scared me.

_And there he is. He's always there. It's like looking in a damn mirror. Every time I look at him, I see me. I'm in his face, the color of his fur. But not his eyes. _

_The fire blazes in his eyes, trained on one thing. The flame burns into one thing. Into me. His eyes, glaring, with that stupid grin on his face. That laugh. I'll never forget that laugh. I'll never forget any of it. It's burned into me._

_It burns, and it hurts._

_He's coming closer. What do I do? I can't move, can't shout out. I can't call for help. Nobody will come. Nobody wants to help me. Nobody even knows I exist; why would someone come and help me? No. Even if this was happening in broad daylight, surrounded by people, I'd be alone._

_The observers. They'd shake their heads, looking on. Violence is a fascination in human nature, though nobody besides the evil and insane will admit it. So they'll watch, all of them. and shake their heads. And watch more._

_Then they'll continue on their way. And I'll hear their whispers, even if it's while I'm sliding into unconsciousness. Even if the red of my blood is growing into a permanent stain on my skin. Even if I'm about to die._

_I'll hear them whisper, "What a shame." And I'll know they've carried on._

The raccoon grunted, pulling the binding around the wolf tightly and jolting the captive awake. He gritted his teeth in pain, feeling the tight grip around his stomach.

_I hate when my mind starts monologues. _

"Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty," Donahue drawled, as the speed of the van began to decrease. "We 'bout t'reach y'new livin' arrangemen's."

The van jumped over one last bump in the road, and slowed to a stop. The raccoon stood, approaching the door. With a heave, he pulled the door to the side.

Light flooded the van, causing its inhabitants to squint from the anticipated yet strong glare. After a few seconds, the wolf was hoisted to his feet. With the bear holding one arm and the raccoon with the other, he was brought to the edge of the van. With their command, the wolf jumped out, landing on the ground, as his eyes observed the new setting around him.

Well, everything there was to see. Which wasn't much.

Before him stood a short, long building. Built with gray, stone bricks, the facility was not a gigantic monstrosity. In fact, the wolf felt as though he'd set his expectations a bit too high.

There was a simple wire fence circling the structure, with some spiked feature on top. The windows were barred, but they were a generous size. It was impossible to see the inside from their angle, but the wolf wasn't particularly worried.

There were a few inmates wandering about, some with supervising officers and some alone. They wore the traditional orange jacket, and some were dressed in full orange, but others wandered around in normal clothing despite the bright jacket. Attire didn't seem to be of high importance.

Faintly, the wolf could make out a backlot behind the building. Several orange-clothed inmates had gathered on benches, talking and making noise. A few crowds had gathered, most likely to watch a brawl that had broken out. Meanwhile, officers just stood behind the captives and surveyed the scene.

"Whadaya think Lyson's gon' say 'bout dis fella here?" The wolf heard Donahue ask his companion, while keeping the fugitive's wrists bound tightly behind his back.

"I dunno," Pattin replied, observing their captive. "If he has such an impressive track record, as you say, then he'll probably be pretty impressed."

"Hell," Donahue scoffed, "wit dis guy, we could re'stablish dis dump! Make it great! Go 'round sayin' 'ey, lookit dis fella here. Dis fool we got in 'ere. We da best, and y'best believe it."

The wolf rolled his eyes, grateful that his face was obscured from the officers so they couldn't see how badly he was swearing them to hell.

The entrance was bleak, but in no way intimidating. The fugitive allowed himself to be led inside, taking in the poor lighting, cracked ceilings and the walls covered in illegible scrawl. The cells were down a narrow hallway, but the officers stopped at the small office right beside the entrance.

"Chief Lyson, sir," the bear said formally. With a glare aimed at the gold wolf, he dropped the fugitive's wrists. "Git," he growled in a hoarse whisper, shoving the lupine inside.

After being pushed into the office, the wolf came face-to-face with a light-gray wolf, standing beside a desk littered with papers. The two were about the same height. The gray lupine's uniform was adorned with more metal than the others, and by crossing his arms, he caused the gold five-pointed star pinned to his uniform to catch the dim light. Nothing was so substantial about this gray wolf's features: slight stubble around the chin, clean face, normal body type. His one standout characteristic were his eyes, which were a vibrant, almost unnatural shade of blue. The cutting look from these eyes scanned the fugitive, and after a moment he spoke.

"Well," he said in a soft, calm tone. "Who do we have here, boys?"

"We picked him up from downtown, sir," Pattin said after shooting a look at Donahue, silently telling the bear to shut his mouth. "Robbing a bank. It should be on the news."

The gray wolf nodded, his icy gaze never drifting from the opposite lupine. He squinted, observing. "You seem familiar," he said after a moment. "I've definitely seen you before."

The gold wolf simply shrugged, and the gray-furred officer raised an eyebrow. "Got a name?"

No response.

"Come on," the wolf sighed. "I don't want either of these scumbags to answer for you." The bear stomped, opening his mouth in protest, but a slap on the arm and withering glance from Pattin made him think otherwise.

"Don't test me," the wolf said. The statement could either have been aimed at the bear, or the silent wolf standing before him. "I'll ask again. Name."

"Rein," the wolf murmured finally. His voice was barely audible. "Rein Xavier."

The opposite wolf nodded. "Rein." He tilted his head. "Interesting. How do you spell that?"

The wolf shrugged. "Not sure," he admitted, his tone still monotonous and on the quieter side. "Never seen a birth certificate. No proof that I was even given an official name. The first thing I can remember is my br-"

He paused, rethinking his words. "I can only remember being called that. Spell it how you want."

The gray wolf smiled, shaking his head. "Nice lie, son," he said. "Now go on, how you spell it?"

Rein sighed. "I already told you, I don't know," he responded. "I guess like the weather? Or something?"

The gray wolf shook his head again, his arms still crossed. "Don't seem like the type who'd just talk about the weather," he said. "Rein. R-E-I-N. Sound good?"

Rein nodded. "Guess so," he muttered.

_Who the hell cares? _

The gray wolf nodded as well, holding out a hand. "Chief Lyson," he said. Rein shook his hand, and the chief turned to his papers. "Now...I don't feel like dealing with all your paperwork. You've been sentenced here while we wait for an opening in federal court. Until then, you're stuck here." His finger trailed down a stray paper. "And here we go, cell 214. These officers will bring you there. Your jacket will be waiting. And you can hold onto those jeans of yours, if you'd like."

Rein nodded, looking down at himself. His pants were in decent enough condition, they'd survive. His shirt, however, was soaked through with blood. He wasn't about to say anything though.

Luckily, the chief noticed. "Officer Pattin," he told the raccoon. "Go to the locker room. Pick this guy up a shirt, for Christ's sake. It looks like he went swimming in his own insides." After an affirmative nod, the raccoon left to retrieve a spare shirt.

The chief idly glanced at the stain on Rein's shirt. "What, did you miss your target or something?" No answer. Chief Lyson shrugged. "Suit yourself, I'll just go with that."

Suddenly, the chief squinted. Rein tilted his head, as his face controrted into an look of confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, when Lyson suddenly approached him.

Taking Rein's chin in his hand, Lyson brought the wolf's eyes level with his own. The chief's blue eyes were narrow, as he seemed to be observing the gold irises of the captive. No words were spoken, until Officer Donahue broke the silence.

"Some'in wrong, sir?"

The chief didn't respond, but instead continued to examine Rein's eyes. Slowly, he shook his head, still keeping the gold lupine's chin in his grip. After a moment, he clicked his tongue, pulling back and retreating a few steps.

"'Scuse me, sir," Donahue spoke again, "but what t'hell wa-"

"Quiet," the chief commanded, his eyes never shifting from Rein. "Leave us a second. Tell Pattin to wait outside with you."

The confused bear abided, exiting the office and leaving the two lupines alone. A silence followed, before Lyson finally spoke.

"You have been through a lot, haven't you?"

No response.

The chief nodded, squinting again. "Anything else we need to know? Limitations or disabilities, perhaps?"

"I'm not slow-minded. I can think normally," Rein responded.

"Not what I meant," Lyson continued. "I'm sure you're very smart. I mean physically. Or emotionally. Any sort of illness?"

It was quiet for a moment, again. "Well, I do have one thing," Rein finally admitted. "I don't know what exactly sets it off, or how long it takes to set it off, but if I do much extraneous activity my body kinda shuts down. As in, I freeze sometimes. And my arm or leg starts shaking. If it's really bad, I get these tremors that just feel like waves of pain through me." He shrugged. "Don't know how to offset it, besides not pushing myself too hard."

"I see," Chief Lyson replied. "Know why?"

Rein nodded slowly, brushing aside a piece of his fur on his head. There was a deep, jagged cut running down his skull, still coated with pus and dried blood. It was a thick cut, as though no ordinary knife had been the cause. "That's why. Some nerves in my skull were damaged, leading to my brain. So sometimes my body misses some signals my brain sends out. Like how to move."

Chief Lyson sighed, picking up a clipboard off his desk and scribbling something. "You're going to be submitted to our doctor as soon as possible," he said. "About time that mark of yours saw some medical attention."

More silence. And then, it was the golden wolf who broke the quiet, for once.

"What's your first name?" Rein's voice was low, as usual, but Chief Lyson could still hear the curiosity in his tone.

"Eric," he responded. "Eric Lyson."

Rein gave a tiny half-smile, so small it was nearly untraceable. "Nice to meet you, Chief Eric Lyson," he said. The chief only nodded in return, as the raccoon arrived with a plain white shirt.

"Thanks, Pat. He can change in his room," the chief ordered, gesturing towards the door."

"Wait," the bear said, examining the gold lupine's backside. Squinting, he lifted the back of the wolf's shirt up and tugged on the back of the his jeans. "Anythin' under there, boy? Otherwise, you too lean t'hide shit."

"Could you not touch my ass?" A tone of irritation laced the wolf's voice, which altered in tone suddenly, and the bear backed off. "Thanks." With that, Rein allowed Officer Pattin to take his arm and lead him out. "See you around," he heard the chief say as he exited the office.

On the way to his cell, Rein made eye contact with nobody. The long walk through the corridor was noisy, tense and seemed to last a lifetime, but eventually they reached cell 214. After the door was securely locked and the officers had left, the wolf finally found himself alone.

He quickly changed shirts, refusing to pull on the orange jacket hanging in the corner. Instead he laid out on the small cot, staring at the ceiling. His mind began to wander, once again.

"See you around," he murmured, before his eyes closed.

**So there you go. Chapter 2. Woo! The next one is coming out SOON I promise. I'm so sorry, again, for the hiatus. Until next time!**


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